Twinkie
by Obi the Kid
Summary: Cal learns of the demise of his favorite snack cake.


**Title**: Twinkie

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Cal learns of the demise of his favorite snack cake.

**Disclaimer**: All hail Rob Thurman! No profit here, I'm just having fun.

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Death is final. Death is forever. Death sucks.

It especially sucks when the news of the death is delivered by a tall blond olive-skinned ninja with laughter dancing in his gray eyes.

My brother. Heartless bastard.

"You shouldn't take such joy in the death of an object that at one time helped you to safe my life, Nik."

"I will admit to owing it a small patch of gratitude for that moment, yes. However, it is also responsible for poisoning the world for over eighty years. Thus, I welcome its demise."

My head shook with disgust. "You are a cold, cold man, Cyrano. A cold, cold man."

Seconds later, from behind Niko's back, a rectangular-shaped box came flying toward my face. Another followed quickly in its wake. Had I not caught them, they would have killed me. Such was the ability of my brother to hurl grocery items at me at warp speed.

"Not too cold, little brother. The store had two boxes left. In honor of their contribution to the one-time saving of your life, enjoy your yellow, crème-filled chemical snack cakes of death."

I tore open a box and ripped the plastic wrapping off of the most welcomed of sights. "Hello, Twinkie my old friend. How I have missed thee. How I will mourn your passing." I gazed longingly at the small cake as the plastic fell from my hand to the couch. Seconds later, that same plastic wrapping was inserted into my sponge-filled mouth.

"Danit ik! U Waaastrd!"

"I bought you those out of the kindness of my heart, not so you could pollute the living room with your trash. Do it again and you'll eat the box too."

Swallowing the mouth full of Twinkie and removing the wrapping all in one smooth motion, I halfway thought about tossing the saliva covered plastic onto the floor. A menacing glance from my brother and I decided against it. Instead, I held it in my lap and went for Twinkie number two. Within thirty minutes, I'd eaten the whole damn box.

Two hours later, I was puking yellow sponge and white crème from guts to toilet. A shadow stood at the bathroom door. I knew without looking that he was there, arms folded, shaking his head in disbelief. Well, maybe not disbelief, but I was pretty sure he was at least wondering at my stupidity.

"I would have distributed them to you one per day, but for some foolish reason, I thought I'd instilled enough common sense into you when you were a child to allow for some form of self control. Evidently, I was incorrect in my assessment." A small damp towel was presented to my face. I took it and pushed backwards to sit flat on my ass.

"I was weak, Nik, but all that spongy goodness all in one place..." There was a pause while I dry heaved into the toilet and then sat again. "Alas, it was too much spongy goodness."

Niko sighed at me. "I have a class in twenty and will see you after your bar shift. You_ will_ clean the bathroom before you leave here. If you do not…"

I held up a hand. "I know, I know. You'll make me lick it clean or something of equal viciousness."

"Clean it up, Cal. And do not eat another Twinkie today."

"No worries, Cyrano. Remember, Twinkies are dead. Although, of all things to die before me I'd never imagined it would be the world's perfect food." I sighed, pouted and reluctantly turned to cleaning the mess I'd created.

Three months later news spread the globe the Twinkies had been saved. I celebrated by burning all my remaining generic dollar store variety spongy snack cakes one by one in an ash tray at the bar. Well, they didn't so much burn as melt into gooey golden puddles, but I got my point across before Niko could slither in and put the flames out by shoving my face into the tray and having me smother it with my spit.

I did love my brother; almost as much as I loved my Twinkies.

Both had saved my life, but Twinkies couldn't kick my ass and force me to run ten miles at five AM, so they had a leg up on the whole favoritism thing.

By June, I'd be in Twinkie heaven once again. Long live the crème-filled sponge cake!

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_The end._


End file.
